


The Last of his Breed

by Mamajo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Depression, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4578834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamajo/pseuds/Mamajo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Obi-Wan Kenobi introspective inspired by panharmonium's glorious mixtape on 8tracks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last of his Breed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panharmonium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panharmonium/gifts).



> This came about while listening to [panharmonium](http://panharmonium.tumblr.com)'s glorious mixtape [The Last of His Breed](http://8tracks.com/panharmonium/last-of-his-breed) featuring Obi-Wan Kenobi. That's my first attempt at writing Star Wars (blame The Clone Wars, I WAS COMPLETELY SUCKER-PUNCHED). I gotta say, he's my favourite Jedi and, particularily this mixtape, makes me hella emotional. So be prepared for everything. The headlines are the song titles of the mix.

Prologue

He steps out into the sand, the suns mocking him with their welcoming heat. Home at last. He closes his eyes against the sting of the wind and weeps for the lost.

 

Binary sunrise

Obi-Wan slowly opens his eyes. The sunrise is singing inside his head. Another day then. He folds his right hand over his mouth to wipe away the bitter taste of memory. Discarding his blanket, he gets up and moves to the window by the book shelves. Looking out over the vast sand dunes of Tatooine, his heart in his throat, he thinks about his arrival on this planet just a month ago. So much pain is still riding on his shoulders, so much lost hope. Oh Anakin. What have we become.

 

Partnerless Spar

His breath comes fast and easy. His arms move in strong arcs, fighting of his demons in ever widening circles. Jumping catapults him over the small obstacle course set into the garden. Wind is whistleing in his ears. He feels strong, purpose floods into his veins. Joy is stuck in his throat, wanting to be released, his body is his to command. Dancing once more into the center of the mandala laid out for him he comes to a sudden stop and breathes.

 

To Town

He feels as if he doesn't even belong with his own people anymore. His shoulders have started to stoop, grey has worked itself into his beard. Sometimes it even gets too hard to breathe. Looking around at the bustle of the market, his eyes glide over Jabba's tax collecters, wiping them from his mind as soon as he notices them. He has no power here, hasn't been willing to use his knowledge in a long time now. He is so tired. He waits for the day he can let go.

 

Pile of Bones

He longs for the silence. For redemption. Peace. But his own mind won't let him rest. He tries, so hard. But the land itself turns against him, filling his mouth with dust, tearing at his hair to disrupt his thoughts, the suns are unrelenting in their desire to burn him until nothing is left. Until his whole existence is erased from this planet, never to be remembered. And one day soon, he will give up.

 

Casting the Net

He is so alone. Still, he tries to connect. Hoping for answers. Hoping someone will hear him, will release him from his solitude. Will shelter him. Help him. Set him free. Day and night he tries. But no one ever hears his pleas. 

 

No reply

Still, he works. Keeps busy watering his hydrogarden, repairing broken shingles, building new shelves for his reluctant home. Even if nobody keeps him company, he still has himself to talk to. The townies have taken to calling him the Mad One. Obi-Wan just shrugs and tells himself stories of a better time, when the wind was sweet and his life had purpose other than merly staying alive. 

 

Sunsick

Fever muddles his thoughts, making him believe, just for a moment, that everything is alright. That he is home on Coruscant, surrounded by smells of green and wood and the laughter of Younglings. Hands stretch, reaching for the grip of his Master. Everthing will be ok, if only he can stretch far enough, can feel those hands in his again. Blankets shift, and he ends up on the hard floor of his house, too spend to get back into his bed. He doesn't try to reach out a second time.

 

The Worst Case of Survivor's Guilt

Death haunts him. Screams fill his ears, whether he listens to them or not. Most days, all he can do is close off his mind to them, otherwise he'd go insane. But sometimes... sometimes it's not enough. Sometimes he just sits and rocks himself to sleep, dreaming of better things.

 

Force Forsaken

It's madness. Fear. Despair. It's too loud and not loud enough. His fingers sink into his hair, gripping it tightly, ripping strands out with his force. And then he screams, until he can't anymore. 

 

Take A Sandstorm

He can feel its strength gathering just behind the horizon. Fingers weave faster, sweat is covering his brow. Finishing his task takes all his concentration. When the storn hits, it's like a blow to the head. The sheer force of its nature is awe inspiring and sows fear into his heart. Minutes turn into hours, turn into night. Still he stands and does what his life has been all about. Protect those in need.

 

Signs and Wonders

The rains soaks him through to his bones. With it comes a feeling of forgiveness. He lies still long past when the last drop has fallen. His tears mingle with the rain, and he laughs for the first time in three years.

 

Sky full of Stars

Billions of worlds shine down on him, filling his vision with their promise of life. Once, he believed in hope, in peace, in freedom. What is so different this time? He had watched the night sky countless times. Maybe the storm had finally awakend his heart, and with it his memories of better things. Obi-Wan looks upon the stars and begins to dream again.

 

Renewed Purpose

The next day is the first day he gets up, says Fuck You to the Universe and starts to train. At night he falls into bed utterly exhausted, but with a smile on his face. The Force awakens and starts to tempt him with knowledge. He hasn't felt this alive in years. Katas flow, muscles harden, and his mind is finally at peace.

 

Collecting from the Collectors

The fight leaves him invorigated, the Force guiding his every step with confidence and purpose. Leaving the tax collectors groaning on the floor, Obi-Wan resumes his shopping and never looks back.

 

Because you are here

The world sings. It shares its melodies, inviting him to hum along, so he does. Life is all around him, the sand and rocks surrounding him feel warm, welcoming. He touches the ground, listening to the vibrations heralding tiny shifts in the center of the planet. Being witness to the growing of mountains humbles him. Stillness sits in his heart, and he wonders.

 

There is no Death

He has been sitting in meditation for hours now. When the hand on his head strokes through his hair, all he can do is squeeze his eyes shut against the sting of tears. Thank you, he silently says. Thank you. He opens his eyes, looks up and smiles. Welcome home, Master. It's very good to see you. Qui-Gon Jinn returns his smile and joins him on the ground. We have much to discuss, my Padawan. Obi-Wan nods and prepares to give his report.

 

Who you are

The wind is grooming his beard, making swirls, preparing his hair for a nice dance with the sand whirling around his head. Obi-Wan smiles. Contentment steals into his soul, surprising him with its suddenness. Maybe living out here wasn't so bad after all. There were certainly worse ways to wile away the years. And his own company has proven itself on being enough. He squints up into the sky and sighs. 

 

Outro

Being the last of his kind has been hard, aging him before his time. But it also has strengthend his resolve. He knows who he was, is, and will be. Power still runs through his slight frame, his mind is keen and ready to spread its knowledge. Soon, there will be time for teachings. Soon, there will be time for endings. But for now, his soul shines bright and true. And he will go on and serve his purpose. For the Force is strong and has never steered him wrong. Faith is all he needs to survive.


End file.
